


The Things that Don't Need to be Said

by orphan_account



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Birds, Coffee machine, Fluff, M/M, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-15
Updated: 2017-01-15
Packaged: 2018-09-17 14:58:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,592
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9330395
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Castiel didn't struggle as a human.And Dean wasn't wallowing in self-hate.Sometimes things just work out.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Psynatural](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Psynatural/gifts).



For Castiel, the beginning was extraordinary. When his father created life everything changed. The angels had a purpose. _Make it bright, he said._ So, Castiel and others took the light from their pores and handed to Lucifer, who constructed light. __Make it rain, their father said._ _ And so his children shed tears on what was called Earth. Of course, it was beautiful. Everything was, from the burning stars that he formed with his many hands and the whispers of the wind that blew through his mouth, to the thinnest blades of grass that came from pieces of his feathers. This was beauty, the real definition.

At that time, Castiel thought it truly extraordinary, just as an angel should. However, angels did not have any opinions that they made by themselves. The concept free will was nonexistent, and things became quite boring. There were only a certain amount of stars you could make before the task seems tedious. Castiel spoke nothing of this, he didn’t have to. The rest of the Host knew, for nothing was private. He was surprised to learn that many others had thought so too, and even God grew weary of his creations.

So God made a new order, _Give a piece of yourselves, he commanded, Then bury yourself in the ground of Earth._ So they did. Castiel pulled feathers from all his wings. He pushed them into the dirt and used his grace to keep them there. After every angel did their duty, the animals appeared, gradually. For the first time ever, Castiel was fascinated, all of the host was. God used each piece of an angel and formed a creation all its own. They came in all sizes, of course, none of them being the size as an angel. Some had many appendages, many eyes, feathers, and scales. It became apparent that these things were modeled after the angels.

Castiel’s feathers turned to one of the smaller creatures. Little things that made chirps and sang sweet songs. They also had claws and sharp teeth for when they ripped into prey. It was interesting how the angels responded to Earth’s survival of the fittest dynamic. Amazingly, they could fly. As time progressed, they changed. Some of them became bigger and lost their ability to fly. Some, shrunk and stayed together in flocks. A portion of them traded meat for fruit. They were interesting, with quirky little habits. For instance, one species would take to laying an offspring in another species nest, and in return, the species of the nest would then raise that other one's offspring.

Other angels didn’t seem quite as enthusiastic about their creations. In fact, they became quite bored with them too. Father must have felt the same, because he took the creature that came from Michael’s scales, and gave it something so foreign. They had free will. They had opinions and ideas. They thought something and did it.

The angels were unsure of these “humans”. _You must love Earth and its inhabitants, God said to his children. Care for them, they are yours now._ And so Castiel did. He loved them as much as a being with an abstract concept of “love” could. He bathed in their prayers and healed their wounds. Humans born on the Day dubbed Thursday were blessed under his name. They called his creations "birds" and gave them many different names. In return, Castiel gave them chickens so they could eat.

There were whispers in the Host that Lucifer and some were unhappy. Which is a thought in itself, considering none of them had a concept of happiness, at least not really. But it he was the first to object to anything that Father had done.

God then turned their halos into swords and made them warriors. Castiel killed his brethren in name of his Holy Father, and for the first time felt sadness. He and his brothers wept for the fallen and their tears flooded the Earth.

When Lucifer resided in hell, the angels asked, _Why father, why have you forsaken them?_

But God was gone.

The angels took it upon themselves to make rules and punishments. _You must love them, they said._

There was a point where Castiel believed they loved too much. The angels made sins and punished those who disobeyed. _Would God want this, Castiel spoke. Are we not supposed cherish his Creation and keep them safe?_

_Obey Castiel._

_I do not think this is right._

_You should not think Castiel._

Castiel underwent re-education and didn’t doubt anything for a long time.

Castiel was assigned the mission to save the Righteous Man. He wore his armor and descended into the pits of hell. The demons around him burned just from the light of his grace. However, the fire burned his tails, wings, and many of his limbs. When he touched the ground, he found the Righteous Man with holes and opened wounds. He was charred and tainted. In his bloody hands, he held jagged knives. His soul looked like a paper with a fire burning its edges. Castiel wrapped him in his grace and felt the human’s struggle. He bit and stabbed and spoke a foul language.

 _Ungrateful, Castiel huffed._ His voice rang throughout hell.

He held the man close, even when his sins burned into Castiel’s skin. With all his hands, he mended every wound and remade flesh. He used his breath to whisper life into this broken man, his bones to mend his to arched legs and strong hands. He peppered this man’s skin with kisses from his mouths, leaving freckles on his body. He pulled green pigment from his upper wings and poured it into his eyes.

With this man complete, Castiel was hit with a sudden euphoric feeling.

 _He’s beautiful. Like the Beginning. Like the Stars. Like the Oceans. Like the Castiel’s Birds._ For a brief moment, he thought of keeping this man to himself. He saw this man’s faults, he felt this man’s angst. He thought better and placed the Righteous Man in his grave.

 _Dean Winchester is saved._ The Host celebrated. Castiel was praised and all seemed Good.

Castiel doubted for the first time in a long time. He sat with Dean on a bench and decided at that moment, he was going to fight for free will. He was going to watch the birds and smell the gunpowder on Dean’s skin. Castiel would save the precious humans from the very cause that he was once a part of.

Dean became the most precious aspect of Castiel’s life. Dean gave him insight to the real beauty in humanity. He gave him friendship, from himself and other beautiful people, like the gracious Sam, and the lovely Charlie. He gave Castiel pleasure that angels never had. Dean filled his senses with humanity. He can hear the music from the Impala’s speakers. He can see the aesthetic of plaid print. He feels the wind on his face when he rolls down the car window. He smells the grease of fast food. He tastes the sweetness of the filling in a pie.

He has learned the best from humanity and the worse. Castiel has betrayed his friends and has been betrayed by them. He has lied and so has they. They fight and leave scars. They cry and hold on to each other.

Now he is nothing like he once was. He had two arms, two legs, two eyes, and no wings. Castiel ate juicy burgers made by Dean and green salads that Sam and him make from what they harvest in their garden. He slept in the bed with a bed set he picked out and in the Impala with head pressed against the window, while  he listened to the voices of the Winchester’s.

Cas has been reduced to what his angelic siblings would call scum, and he’s never been happier.

* * *

 

Dean had recently decided that his life was actually...Good? Like not bad? He was pretty sure that life could be worse. For instance, the main inconvenience of the day was if there was milk and eggs in the fridge, which there currently was because he just went to the store and bought some. Dean would take that over any apocalypse. Was he still plagued by past regrets and continued to have nightmares? Yeah, he was a hunter and that was just part of the life. The difference was that he didn’t dwell on his regrets, and the nightmares were few and far between. He got at least six hours of sleep instead of his standard four.

So yeah, life was actually pretty Good. If someone would have told him five years ago that he would be chilling in a dead guy’s robe and drinking a coffee made from a something called a Keurig, he probably would have punched that person in the face. But that was then, and people change, life changes. He remembers the first Day he met the “Keurig”.

Sam had brought it home and Dean had made a fuss. It seemed unnecessary. It ruined the aesthetic that he was trying to develop in _his_ kitchen. “What aesthetic, Dean?” Sam had said. “The gray fifties thing is outdated anyways. Right Cas?” Cas looked up from his corner of the table where he was observing the scene.

“You know what Sam?” Dean grumbled and walked to his perfectly Good coffee pot. “You're outdated.” Sam didn’t respond and just plugged the thing in. “Cas like the coffee pot just fine. And he doesn’t think my kitchen is out of date.” He turned to Cas eagerly.

Cas sipped from his cup of tea and glanced away. “It’s not very modern.”

Dean gasped. “I have made many dinners for this family in this very kitchen. You’re just saying that cause you watched the DIY channel last night and suddenly think you’re some kind of interior designer.” Cas just frowned at continued to drink his tea.

So yeah, Dean _does_ use the stupid thing, but why not? He deserves to treat himself. They all do. That's why he didn’t object when Cas started leaving small little succulent plants around the bunker. There’s some hanging from the ceiling in the kitchen and a pot on each table in the library. Cas tended to grab one each time they were out.

It was endearing. He’s caught Cas a few times whispering to them in what he thinks is Enochian. Dean wanted to ask what he was saying, but felt that maybe it was too personal. It was something he didn’t want to touch on despite his curiosity. Why would he say to them? Was he happy here? He could obviously find all these answers if he just asked, but he was a Winchester and he doesn’t know how to function if he’s not oppressing things.

It was nice having him around, however, even a little refreshing. Cas was stuck in some semi-angel state, which apparently wasn’t bad as Dean first thought. Dean had been concerned that Cas might not be coping well with his angelic status. But Cas has been pretty chill about it, at least that's how it appears. For instance, when Dean found Cas sleeping in what he designated as the “living room”, he had been prepared to hunker down and have a heart to heart with Cas. He planned to tell Cas that Sam and Dean would be by his side has he adjusted to being human. They’ll help them with anything he might need. Sam even took him to the side and told Dean that he better be _empathetic_ towards Cas.

Only Cas seemed pretty fine, like actually fine. Not their standard “I’m fine, but I’m really not” thing. He seemed to function like what Dean suspected a normal semi-human angel would. He eats and it doesn’t taste like molecules, which is great because he’s always looking for an excuse to cook and Cas is always eager to eat whatever Dean makes.

And that was exactly what he was in the kitchen doing right now. He was making Cas some homemade chicken and dumplings while he was out with Sam and Charlie getting clothes. He often tried to make an effort to make things for Cas that he hasn’t tried before. So far Cas seemed to enjoy a Good percentage of what Dean made him. It’s kinda fun to go through a trial and error of what foods Cas liked. Peas are a no go. Onions are Good. Lemon’s are great.

From in the kitchen, Dean could hear the sounds of the bunker entrance door and footsteps descending down stairs. He turned around just in time to see Charlie stepping in the kitchen with Sam and Cas behind her, both with hands full of shopping bags. “We’re back!” she announced then threw her bags in the table cause thing the salt and pepper shakers to fall over. Cas placed his down more gently and propped the shakers back up. Sam followed after and made his way to the fridge to put groceries away.

Dean eyed the bags. There was many of them of different sizes and colors and obviously came from an assortment of boutiques. “You guys were just supposed to get some clothes. What’s all this?” Dean knew he should have gone with them and make sure they got what they were supposed too. He picked up a striped bag that had ribbons for handles. When he looked inside he saw small decorative bottles that were printed with floral patterns and gold printing. Some bottles had the same labels,  and the bag itself smelled like perfume.

“Oh, we got all that,” she gave him a sly smile and walked past him to see what was on the stove. He frowned at her and snatched the ladle away from her before she could get any soup. They’ve had family meetings where Dean as enforced the No Eating Dinner Until It Is Ready Rule. That shit won’t be tolerated in his kitchen.

He had looked to Cas, who was going through the bags and taking out various objects. Stuff that looked like jeans and some soft looking pastel shirts. Charlie must have picked up some stuff for her too. “Did you have fun Cas?” Cas nodded but otherwise didn’t say anything. He didn’t even look up. If Dean could be a word, he would say that Cas was nervous. He rubbed and moved side to side slightly. This immediately caught Dean’s attention because Cas was never nervous. In fact, Cas was quite the opposite. He tended to be blunt to the point of being rude and was just...solid.

Before he could ask, Charlie was at Cas’s side putting bags in his arms. “Why don’t you go try on your new clothes, Castiel?” Cas nodded once and left the room. Dean watched him go. He should say something to Cas, maybe even follow after him. Charlie was grabbing on to his sleeve, and he could easily shake her off. He didn’t though. He bit his tongue and instead took to investigating Sam and Charlie. “What up with Cas?” Dean crossed his arms and looked at both of him. He could already picture events that might have happened. Charlie was looking at everything but him and Sam was suddenly very interested in reading the Chinese food menu that was posted on the fridge.

“Really? C’mon guys. Can we not do this?” Dean crossed his arms and huffed. Charlie hummed thoughtfully and looked like she was trying to find her words.

“We just talked with him,” Charlie shrugged and bit her lip.

“Yeah, Dean,” Sam agreed and finally stepped away from the fridge. “We chatted about somethings and…” Sam glanced at Charlie.

“And…” she began, clearly searching for a word. Her eyes got big and she smiled at him. “Maybe,” she poked him in the chest. “You should go talk to him.”

Dean handed her back the ladle. “Okay, I will.” Sam frowned at her and that only convinced Dean more. He wasn’t really the person to have a heart to heart with, but because the other two members of this dysfunctional family aren’t helping, he’s gonna have to step up. He made his way halfway around the table and was a couple steps towards the door when Sam pulled him back.

Suddenly the ladle was back in his hand and he was pushed back in front of the stove. “Dean, just focus on cooking dinner. Charlie and I will see what’s up.”

Dean watched them leave and started aggressively stirring the broth. He should be glad that Sam and Charlie are the ones going to talk with him, but that didn’t stop him from worrying. Sam had pointed out that Dean tended to coddle Cas. Which Dean couldn’t help but do. He was a caregiver at heart. So sue him if he wants to make sure Cas is happy with his decision to stick with the Winchesters. He could have chosen to do anything with his new freedom, but for some godforsaken reason, Cas chose to stay with them.

Dean smiled down at his the soup. It made him feel giddy, really. They seemed to have his a bump on the Cas front, but he thought they could figure that out. Dean’s work too long and hard to keep the people he loves safe and happy.

And they would have Good Days. They would wake up some mornings and were just happy. The Day would start off bright and sunny, figuratively of course, because the bunker didn’t really have windows. Everyone in the bunker would just wake up and feel Good and content and for once they weren’t living in their past regrets and bad choices.

Dean would make breakfast. Dean always made breakfast on Good Days. Either blueberry pancakes or maybe french toast that had been pressed in the waffle iron. Sam would use his juicer to make fresh juice. Cas didn’t do much for breakfast, having been banned from cooking over the skill level of ramen noodles, but he would help somehow, whether it was getting a plate ready or cutting up something. In turned out his angel blade talent transitioned into kitchen knife skills. If Charlie was there, they would go out to a restaurant that usually a little pricer than usual. _Treat yo’ self, she would say._

Sometimes they would go out. Not to anywhere specific, just out. Dean would drive, or maybe Sam. Cas would on occasion if he asked to.

Or they would stay in and watch bootleg movies from Charlie’s laptop that was hooked up to the TV. Maybe they would just sit together and talk. Or Cas would let Charlie put colored hair chalk in his hair, making it stick up in colorful tuffs. Then she would braid Sam’s hair, or curl it. Maybe they would just go to there rooms and sit quietly, just to spend time alone.

On Good Days, Cas and Dean usually find a way to be alone together. Dean wouldn’t call it sneaking off, because Sam usually knew where they would be. It made Dean feel like a teenager.

On these days, Cas would talk about the universe and how everything was made. Dean would listen adamantly most of the time. Or he would get caught up in how happy Cas was and just stare at his face. It does make him a little sad. Cas was great once. Dean won’t try to lie to himself. Cas was a force of grace and held unbelievable power. The differences between then and now are drastic.

“Do you miss them?” Dean asked on a Good Day. They were in his room, having snuck off after dinner. Cas sat with back pressed against the headboard next to Dean. From their shoulders to their calf, they were touching, creating a long line of comforting heat.

Cas stopped talking. “Miss what?” Dean knew that Cas knew what he was asking about.

Dean should have said something else, but he needed to know. “Your wings.”

Dean held his breath. Cas’s shoulders twitched and rolled. He stared down at his hands. His very human hands…. “All the time,” he responded. Something sliced at Dean’s chest. “Sometimes I think a feel them, like their hurt and I can’t heal them. I dream about flying most nights.” Dean bit the inside of his cheek to keep him from saying anything. “However, if a were to suddenly be an what I once was,” Cas then put his Dean’s, “I would miss this more.”

Dean didn’t cry. He didn’t laugh or make a joke. He turned his hand over and let his fingers entwine with Cas’s.

They would have Bad Days too. Days were their past regrets and mistakes would catch up to them. Those were the days after fear-filled nightmares, where their scared and angry. Sam usually leaves on those days. He was a sulker and choose to do so alone. Dean eats whatever's in the fridge that doesn’t take more than five minutes to prepare. Cas doesn’t eat at all.

They would fight in little ways on these days. Cas wouldn’t refill the water in the Keurig and Dean would be upset. Dean would blast his music throughout the bunker, much to Cas’s dismay.

They also had big fights. Dean yelled and Cas made snarky comments. On Bad Days Dean believed that Cas didn’t actually want to be there. On those days, Cas believed he didn’t deserve to be there.

Those days were hard. It left them feeling raw and so very human, a feeling that Dean had felt too much, and that Castiel hadn’t felt enough.

The day after better, not Good Days, but quiet ones. Cas or Dean find each other to apologize. Both in different ways. Dean would go out to town and bring Cas something back. Usually, a jar of honey or something else Cas would like. Cas just tells him. He doesn’t dance around the issue, not like Dean does. If both of them were like Dean, they would never get anywhere in their relationship.

* * *

 

“You want a what?” Dean asked again even though he was sitting right next to Castiel. Maybe he needed his hearing checked. They were on a couch in a hotel room watching some morning talk show.

”A bird,” Cas began and ate some popcorn, his eyes never left the TV screen. “That’s what I want for Christmas.”

“No,” Dean responded quickly. Castiel finally looked at him and looked a little shocked, but Dean couldn’t blame him. Dean hasn’t told Cas “no” since he’s made permanent residence. He just couldn’t find the heart to do it. He didn’t object to any plant Cas brought in. He didn’t say anything when he also starting replacing the yellow lights in the bunker, with bright Day lights. Or when Cas made dozens of oatmeal raisin cookies then realized that he didn’t like raisins.

“Why?” Cas squinted at him as if he was Dean was being unreasonable.

Dean waved his hand in the air. “The same reason that Sam can’t have a dog. One, it’ll cause a mess. And two, what are we gonna do with it on hunts? You can’t kill demons while teaching a parrot to talk, Cas. That’s not a thing.” Cas’s frown actually turned into a pout, which Dean found to be somewhat hilarious.

Cas just continued to stare at him, and because Dean already to knew the procedure for stare offs with Cas, he looked back. Honestly, Dean’s not sure why they do this. Sometimes it’s to intimidate each other, like a challenge. Sometimes it’s after Dean walks into the kitchen in the morning and Cas hand him a cup of coffee. Those times are softer and usually, have an added soft smile.

Only this time it wasn’t any of those. Cas didn’t glare, or smile, or wink like he did that one time. He looked down once, and then up slightly so he was peering at Dean through his eyelashes. That was unexpected to say the least. Was Cas… Was he flirting with Dean? Wow, okay. Dean should do something, right? Maybe lean in closer? Oh God, suddenly he forgot everything he knew about flirting.

He ended up not really having to do anything. Cas closed the space between them. Dean thought for a second that would kiss him. Suddenly, Dean was eager. This was it. This was going to the moment.

It was a surprise when Cas actually did kiss him, because he chose to go for the nose rather than the mouth. His lips were puckered and press against the tip of Dean’s nose, causing it squish back slightly.

After he pulled away, he was a little red in the cheeks. Dean was, however, very red. “Dude,” was all he could say.

Cas snorted at him. “Don’t call me dude after a kiss you.”

“You kissed me on the nose!”

“I was trying to manipulate you into letting me a have a bird,” he admitted.

“By kissing me on the nose?” Dean laughed at him.

Cas sighed dramatically. “I have literally only been human for approximately five months. I think I deserve some slack.”

Dean couldn’t help but grin. Some part of him was completely giddy about the kiss. Another part of him found it fucking hilarious that that Castiel, Angel of the Lord, just smooched on the schnoz. It was strangely intimate, and Dean knew that that was not the stuff you do with your “buddy”. But there had always been some unsaid thing between them. Something that was both tangible and untouchable.

“There’s nothing you could do that would make me let you get a fucking bird.” He bumped Cas’s shoulder affectionately.

Cas raised an eyebrow at him, clearly challenging him. “Really?”

Dean nodded ruefully. “Really?” He leaned closer, inviting Cas to follow through with what he was trying to set up.

Cas’s face came closer to Dean, but still not close enough. Dean’s face came close enough to brush Cas’s nose. He jumped slightly when Cas’s arms wrapped around him. Dean took that has his clue to do the same.

* * *

 

To this day they argue about who made the last movement and sealed the deal. Dean swore that it was him. That he had tilted his head and pressed his lips against Cas’s. Cas, however, said it was him who moved in and brushed his lips over Dean’s. Sam believed Cas, and Charlie believed Dean. Their first kiss had even become the debate of many dinner conversations.

Dean, in all honesty, didn’t remember exactly how the first kiss went down, but he enjoyed arguing about with Cas. There were so many kisses that came afterward that Dean doesn’t really reminisce about the first one. It’s hard to count them after so many.

They kissed in the Impala.

They kissed in the kitchen.

They kissed on the Bad Days. Those kisses were angry and hard.

They kissed on the Good Days. Those kisses were soft and airy.

There were kisses that were deep and wet and involved someone pressed against and flat surface. There also were kisses that were light and dry, usually reserved for in the mornings or while passing each other in the hallway.

For Castiel, the beginning was extraordinary. He has made stars and sung to the birds.

For Castiel, his life right now was extraordinary. He would map out the constellations on Dean’s skin and listen to Dean sing in the shower.

It was extraordinary, and it was because of Dean.

**Author's Note:**

> I had a lot of fun! I don't write Charlie often, so I hope I did her justice.


End file.
